


In which Colette tries to talk sense

by Overlord_Bethany



Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, Paris hijinks, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 14:36:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11853621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overlord_Bethany/pseuds/Overlord_Bethany
Summary: ...with mixed results.





	In which Colette tries to talk sense

Colette caught up with Tarvek at the popular Café Insomnie, inviting herself to a seat at the coveted corner table with him. He said something polite, but he kept his attention on his incomplete notes. The way the electricity had laddered suggested a fault in—

“Here.” Colette placed an open book over the page before him. Tarvek stared almost without recognition at Gil’s heavily annotated scrawl. His breath caught, and he fought through a sudden vertigo. 

“How did you get this?”

Colette laughed at him. “I  _asked_. Honestly, why must the two of you make everything so complicated? Which, incidentally, is the reason your machine failed.” She flipped a page and tapped Gil’s third sketch of their device. 

Tarvek took a deep, steadying breath, and he leaned forward to study the schematic. “The backup grounding cycle,” he groaned. “That linkup was a bad idea.” Like spending any time at all with Gil. 

“I think you were on the right track,” Colette said. “Just the execution needs work.”

Tarvek sat back and sipped his coffee—his third cup—and wondered why he thought for a moment that she meant something other than the failed device. Colette smiled at him, and he trusted her even less. “Thank you.”

While Tarvek studied Gil’s notes, Colette stole grapes from his plate. She waited until he had copied four diagrams into his own notes before she said, “I wish the two of you would patch things up between you. You’d be my favorite power couple.”

Tarvek’s grip tightened on his pencil. “You… what?” He set Gil’s notes aside. “You think we’re a couple?” He might laugh if only it didn’t hurt so much. 

“No, I know you split up.” Colette pointed an accusatory grape at him. “I bet it was over something stupid.”

Tarvek thought of the sickening loneliness he had felt upon leaving Castle Wulfenbach. “Colette, no. We didn't—”

“Of course you did. The passion between the two of you is so intense it almost gives me a headache.”

“He gives me a headache nearly every day,” Tarvek scoffed. 

Colette shook her head at him. “Can’t you just admit that you love—”

“Don’t,” Tarvek interrupted, raising his voice a little over the rushing in his ears, the sick drop in the pit of his stomach. “Please, you mustn’t say that.” Not anywhere that an agent of his family might overhear. Of course he knew that he loved Gil. He had known since their first unfortunate reunion. 

Colette smiled at him, a knowing glint in her eyes. “He’s not helpless, you know. And even if he were, he has other defenses.”

Tarvek took another sip of his coffee, stalling as he mulled over the implication of her careless remarks. He tried not to think of that person, the one who somehow always appeared at Gil’s side at the most ridiculous of moments, armed and ready for bloodshed. “That obnoxious pirate,” he realized. “She’s hired muscle.”

Colette patted his hand. Tarvek managed not to scowl at the somewhat condescending gesture. 

“That demonstrates a level of forethought I would not have credited Gil with,” he admitted. 

“Oh, really,” Colette said, shaking her head in exasperation. “A Spark like Gil? He stands out. He can’t really help it, so he will always attract all the Othars and Zolas of the world.”

“Yes, but I assumed he would try to take them all on by himself.” Tarvek failed to hold back a nostalgic little smile. He thought of a time many years ago, when he had stood between Gil and the children who had bullied him. Many years ago, Gil had not needed to hire a remorseless killer. 

Colette slid her chair closer, almost right up against his side. “I saw that,” she said in an undertone. “You need to tell him you still love him.”

Tarvek let himself consider for a moment how Gil would react. Shock? Disbelief? Suspicion? No matter how he longed for Gil to catch at his hand and drag him off to see whatever he found new and exciting in the moment, longing would not make it happen. He could appreciate Gil from a distance, could drink in the rich machine-oil scent of him when he was near, but he could never confess his love. “Bodyguard or no,” he muttered, just loud enough for Colette’s ears, “my family would destroy him. You know that.”

“No.”

Her simple conviction made Tarvek frown, his own suspicions deepening. The tiny smile at the corners of her lips told him that Colette Voltaire would provide no more commentary on the matter. Resigned, Tarvek ordered more coffee and returned to his work.


End file.
